


Turn Me to Gold in the Sunlight

by sequence_fairy



Series: Bunny Scarves [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Post-Fullbringer Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:12:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rukia finds something familiar in Ichigo's closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn Me to Gold in the Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blancsanglier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blancsanglier/gifts).



> Written as a response to a prompt on tumblr, but also part of the on-going series of bunny scarves fics that I am currently writing - [Rabbit Heart](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6559678) and [This is a Gift (It Comes With a Price)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6612283).

“Why do you have this in your closet Ichigo?” Rukia turns, from where she’s been rummaging in his closet. She’s holding onto a piece of filmy, black material. Ichigo feels his face flame – he thought he’d buried that in his sock drawer. He rubs the back of his neck, fumbling for an explanation.

“I –“

Rukia lets the bunched up material fall open, and Ichigo watches the way her eyes widen and her mouth curves into something softer and sweeter than a mere smile. “You kept it?” she asks, and Ichigo, deciding that there’s nothing left to lose now, nods. “But why? I thought you hated it.”

“Yeah, I kept it. So what?” If Ichigo’s voice is overly gruff, it’s only to cover up whatever else is trying to claw its way up his throat and spill out all over the space between them. He glances over at his phone without thinking, and Rukia follows his gaze.

“Oh,” she says, and then she steps forward and looks up at him. Ichigo is thrown back to the day she left, nearly two years ago now, and he swallows hard. Her hair is different, but her eyes – deep and dark and shining with something that Ichigo couldn’t name then, but probably could now if he thought about it – are exactly the same. There is nothing he doesn’t remember about that moment, no millisecond of it that he hasn’t replayed and analyzed to death in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Other people might think he’s obsessed, but Ichigo knows it’s not obsession that kept him from sleeping for weeks on end or left him reeling in the wake of her departure. Obsession is not the word for the empty space in his chest that only ever seemed to fill with hot, thorny anger that would bleed him dry and leave him hollow when it was spent. Obsession does not explain the bargains he made – reckless or otherwise – to get his _shinigami_ powers back.

(To get back to her, because no matter how he justified it then, the end goal was always the same – get back to Rukia)

The scarf hangs from her fingers, white bunnies running riot across it. Ichigo’s hands open and close reflexively while he resists reaching out for it. He wonders, suddenly, where hers is.

“Rukia, I –“

“Ichigo, you –“

A beat.

“You first,” she says, and Ichigo shakes his head. Another pregnant pause; this time filled with an avalanche of words that neither of them are saying. It was never this hard to talk to her before, he thinks, there was never this stilted space between them that he is now struggling to fill. 

“Of course I kept it,” he says eventually, because someone has to say something. “Where’s yours?” He reaches for the scarf and Rukia gives it up. Ichigo holds it, the fabric bunched around his fingers. 

“Back home,” she answers, easily. “I didn’t want it to get wrecked. I can bring it with me next time I come back, if you want?” 

“Are you coming back?” 

“Of course idiot,” Rukia says, too quickly, and they both know it’s a lie. She’s got duties to fulfill now that she’s officially a lieutenant, and there’s the matter of Ichigo still being _alive_  that precludes him from being able to take up permanent residence in the _Seireitei_. 

“Okay.” Ichigo lets her have this little lie, because it makes them both feel better. “When you come back,” he says, mock-seriously, “you better bring the scarf. I need a new picture.” 

Rukia’s mouth curves into a smile, and she reaches up, slowly enough that Ichigo could back away if he wanted - except he’s rooted to the spot, nothing short of an earthquake would move him now - and presses her palm to the side of his face. He leans down and she leans up and they meet in the middle and her mouth is warm and her lips are soft and Ichigo feels the floor drop out from under his feet. 

He stumbles forward, and Rukia walks him back, letting him crowd her against the wall. Her hands are now gripping his arms and she hums against his mouth. He spans her waist with his hands, and forgets to marvel at how tiny she is when she ups the ante and swipes her tongue along his bottom lip. The kiss turns into a proper snog; Rukia’s hands twist into his hair and Ichigo finds the underside of one her thighs and lifts her up the wall until she is level with him. 

Rukia arches against him, and their hips come together in a moment of glorious friction that has Ichigo gasping her name and breaking the kiss. When he opens his eyes, Rukia is looking at him, and there’s a haze of something that obscures the clear violet of her eyes and he knows it’s reflected in his own. 

“I – that is –” 

“Shut up Ichigo,” Rukia says. Ichigo does. He lets her down, but doesn’t step back, content to have her in his space. For a moment, they just breathe, and he can feel the press and dip of her breath against his chest. Ichigo wonders if there’s something he should say, but before he has a chance, Rukia slips out from between him and the wall, and leans down to pick up the scarf he discarded in his haste to get his hands on her. She hands it back to him, and he holds onto it like a lifeline.

“Better keep this safe for when I come back,” Rukia says, and then, before Ichigo can process anything that’s just happened in the last five minutes, takes a running leap through his open window and disappears into _shunpo._

Ichigo stares after her. 


End file.
